Edge
by ReddishEnemies
Summary: Ardyn came prepared to bargain with the marshal or otherwise prove that he really was just there to help. Given the way Gladio allowed him to stroke his hair (it was an old habit and always seemed to calm down the big ones), this was going to be easier than he thought. [Takes place after Gladio faces Gilgamesh]


The moment Noctis and his cohorts set foot outside of Insomnia, Ardyn began keeping tabs on them. He hadn't had high hopes for them but he didn't expect that they would be so utterly _underwhelming_ and borderline incompetent. And after that pathetic display against Ravus, he began to pay special attention to Gladiolus.

Hotheaded Shields were nothing new (Gilgamesh certainly had been) but hotheaded and useless was a new combination. Cor Leonus at least had the decency to walk himself back to Insomnia after taking on Gilgamesh. _Gladio_ , however?

Ardyn had spent the last week observing the dingy motel—the one nearest the Tempering Grounds at that—Gladio had holed up in. He even saw when Cor dragged the boy's half-limp body into the room at three in the morning, a pitiful attempt at hiding from prying eyes.

Sure, Gladio was only human and it would take time for him to heal, but Ardyn didn't have that kind of time which was why he was outside of the motel room now, listening to Gladio shuffle over to the door after he'd knocked.

"Good morning, Gladiolus," he said, hoping he sounded just jovial enough to set Gladio on edge.

Almost instantly, the fabled Genji blade was pressed against his neck though it wasn't there long. He watched Gladio crumple under the weight of the sword even though it was far lighter than the ones he'd seen the boy swing around.

Blood seeped through the bandages on Gladio's left side and eventually, he let the sword go back into the Armiger. He tried to keep standing but listed forward, right into Ardyn's welcoming arms.

Ardyn came prepared to bargain with the marshal or otherwise prove that he really was just there to help. Given the way Gladio allowed him to stroke his hair (it was an old habit and always seemed to calm down the big ones), this was going to be easier than he thought.

"These are some rather nasty wounds you have here. I can heal them—if you like," he offered, knowing he came off as genuine and knowing Shields were trained not to trust that sort of thing.

Gladio pushed away and looked up at him. His eyes were clouded with pain and there was the faintest hint of yellow around his irises. The scourge-driven beings at the Tempering Grounds had done quite a number on him.

"Why would you do something like that, _Chancellor_?"

"'Chancellor' is but one of the many titles I've held and quite frankly, it's the one I enjoy the least."

If Ardyn had any choice in the matter, he would have much preferred to be known as a healer. Too bad that petty bastard Somnus had set about erasing him from history...but there wasn't time to dwell on that now.

Gladio let out a bitter laugh but winced right after.

"That's rich."

"But it is the truth. Would you allow me a demonstration…?" He held a hand over one of the many wounds on Gladio's legs.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Let me heal you and you'll live long enough to find out."

Hm. He _could_ have made the offer sound a bit more ominous but he also wanted Gladio to take him up on it.

Several tense moments passed before Gladio nodded his assent. In just a few seconds, the wound was gone.

Gladio ran a shaky hand over the newly healed skin. Poked at it. Stretched it.

"How?" he demanded.

"Does that really matter?"

Gladio didn't have a choice in this matter. Most doctors were ill-equipped to deal with the Starscourge and the ones that were would just sentence him to a month of bed rest. Ardyn watched Gladio's expression change from one of anger to one of resignation and held in a laugh. He was easier than Gilgamesh had ever been.

"Do it."

The first thing Ardyn did was knock Gladio out. With magic, of course. It was just easier if Gladio was unconscious while he worked. Ardyn wasn't interested in listening to him fret about how he was going to turn into a daemon. That wasn't even how it worked but Lucian scholars didn't know much of anything anymore.

He maneuvered Gladio onto the bed and took a closer look at his wounds. A few were quite deep but Gilgamesh hadn't even tried to flay or dismember him which was…uncharacteristic.

 _Is the Blademaster growing soft in his old age?_

Healing Gladio didn't take long; perhaps an hour passed and he was nearly done. It was overkill, really, but he needed Gladio back by that worthless prince's side as soon as possible and that meant he had to be thorough.

Then he got to the wound on Gladio's side. The scourge was buried deep in this one and he had to spend several minutes just drawing it to the surface. Gladio started to come around during the process.

"I'm almost finished. You should rest a bit more."

Ugh. He'd let the "calming healer" voice slip out. It was effective, useful for keeping patients from squirming around while he worked and Gladio was no exception. But he had to rein it in before he started getting all sentimental. No use for worthless emotions like that.

Gladio kept still but he didn't try to go back to sleep.

"Why are you really doing this?" he asked, sounding a bit less haggard than he had when Ardyn first arrived.

He stared down at Gladio, wishing he didn't see Gilgamesh in him. Sure, Gladio only had a fraction of Gilagamesh's skill and even less of his charm, but the resemblance was…enough.

"You remind me of an old friend."

"That wasn't the only reason."

It was but Gladio didn't need to know that. So he changed the subject.

"There was more scourge in this wound than the others so brace yourself," Ardyn warned.

"Take a deep breath."

Gladio was fine all the way up until Ardyn actually started drawing out the scourge. He lay still for several moments, his hands fisted in the sheets, his brows clenched together, his entire body tense. For a brief moment, Ardyn was somewhat impressed. Drawing out scourge was a painful process and where most others begged him to stop a few seconds into it, Gladiolus held strong. Perhaps he was stronger than Ardyn gave him credit for.

Scourge finally began to seep out of the cut, a viscous, swirling mass of daemonic essence. Ardyn pulled it into himself until nothing else came out, and Gladio was left quivering on the bed.

Ardyn tossed a blanket over Gladio but he didn't head for the door just yet. He went over to the couch in the room and plopped down on it, exhausted. Taking in scourge was...awful. But it was a necessary evil.

He was being impatient and rather reckless, this he knew, but he just couldn't help it. Eternal relief was _so close_.

No more wandering. No more getting involved in petty human squabbles that the Astrals could attempt to sort out but refused to. None of that would matter.

Well, it would still matter but he wouldn't be around for it and that was all that truly mattered.

Ardyn woke to the feeling of a blade against his neck. He supposed after two thousand years everything had been done but honestly, couldn't the marshal of the Lucian army be more original than a knife to the throat?

"Why are you here?"

"Insurance," Ardyn said as he sat up. Cor's blade followed him, the tip of it close to piercing the skin.

"Try to kill me if you want, marshal. It'll be a waste of time for the both of us."

"Then give me straight answers."

"Well, I healed Gladiolus and felt a bit under the weather afterwards so I decided to rest before heading out."

"Healed?" Cor frowned.

"Check his wounds. I'm quite confident in my abilities."

He watched as Cor went over every inch of Gladio, looking for some fault in his work but there was none to be found. He'd cured the incurable, rid people of the worst afflictions of the time. A few paper cuts (especially by Gilgamesh's standards) were nothing.

"Whatever you think I am now, I wasn't always."

"What were you?"

"A man. And now I'm just a man who's biding his time," Ardyn shrugged. He stood, not bothering to swat away Cor's sword which was now aimed at his heart.

"Now if you'll excuse me, dear marshal, I have places to be. May I…?" he gestured to the sword.

Cor let him leave but not before saying, "You'll regret not letting him die."

"With any luck, you're right."


End file.
